A/N: Of course, I do not own Marvel or anything within it. This story I wrote before solidifying the alternate universe I currently write in, but it is still based in reality and in a world where S.H.I.E.L.D. is in leagues with the X-Men and The Avengers. This specific story deals with what I find to be an interesting way to look at mutants – as myths and/or legends. The idea that there could be a branch within S.H.I.E.L.D. that deals specifically with the 'bigfoots' or 'vampires' of mutants is something that appeals to me, though neither myth is present in this story. I apologize for any mistakes I have made regarding the Spanish, I used a Spanish dictionary and Google translator as my guides.
Dallas, Texas. S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. 9:00 A.M. Central.
Sometimes an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. had to take flack from people who thought they were nothing but ghost or monster hunters. And Agent Melissa Gold took even more flack because she was one of the agents who worked specifically with those odd calls. Normally, her job required her to pour over video feeds, either professional or otherwise, that suggested that S.H.I.E.L.D.'s expertise was required. And usually, it turned out to be bogus. Rarely ever did someone actually see something out of the ordinary that would require Hazmat suits, midnight raids or a special ops team trained to handle a living sea monster.
But today, after taking several ridiculous calls and watching mostly shadows move across her computer screen – shadows that were absolutely not ghosts or monsters – one video made the hair on the back of her neck stand up straight. She paused it and replayed it, probably about five times before she was certain she wasn't just getting creeped-out by someone's stunt.
She switched off one of Texas' queens, Miranda Lambert, and left her station to go find her superior. And she was given the go-ahead to call in the big guns.
Salem, New York. The Rotunda. 8:25 A.M. EST.
Scott Summers sat behind his desk, checking and rechecking the mission schedule for last month. Apparently, one of their pilots did not know how to do simple math and Scott wanted the problem taken care of before he had to turn it into his superiors and end up taking the blame. A knock came at the door, and without looking up, he said, "Come on in."
Janet Van Dyne stepped in and handed him a small package. "This was just delivered by Quiksilver." Quiksilver, as his name suggested, had the job to carry important mail and memos faster than the normal postal service could. He worked directly for Tony Stark, because Tony did not like to wait for mail – or anything.
Scott took the package from her outstretched hand, the nails bedecked in bright green. Sometimes he wondered if her attire was deemed appropriate by the other women who worked here, since Janet usually dressed in short neon skirts, sloganized tee shirts and wore brightly colored hair pieces.
Janet continued, "It's from The Triskelion, but it originally came from San Antonio, Texas. Or maybe Dallas. Anyways, you'll be getting a call –" her words were cut short by the phone.
"Thank you, Janet," Scott said, picking up the phone, an unspoken indication that he wanted her to leave. She grinned and left, closing the door behind her.
"Summers," he said into the phone.
"Have you watched the Dallas footage yet?" Scott could have the I.Q. of one of his pilots without math skills and still would have known who was on the other line. It was Tony Stark a.k.a. the Big Boss, head of the Avenger's Initiative.
"I just received it," Scott replied. He didn't like Tony, thought him an arrogant asshole only out to build up his ego instead of actually helping humanity, but he always kept his emotions in check. After all, it was mostly Tony's dime that kept their lights on and gave Scott the ability to do what he loved.
Tony probably knew that he wasn't well liked by everyone in the world, and that sometimes the only reason people were civil was because he could buy their soul without putting a dent in his pocket change. But he didn't care. To Scott, he said, "Well, not to ruin the surprise, but I want you and a team of your choice to head to Texas. Today if at all possible, tomorrow definitely."
"Okay," Scott said. "I'll check in when I have a team in Texas."
"Wouldn't expect any less of you, Summers. An Agent Gold will be your personal slave once you arrive." Tony replied and hung up the phone.
Elizabeth Braddock set up the feed in the smaller of their two conference rooms and sat down at the rectangular table next to one of her teammates, Emma Frost.
The filming was done by a civilian who had been exploring some unknown cave in lower East Texas. They heard the voice of the man holding the camera. "You claustrophobic, Reg?"
'Reg', probably short for Regina, was a short woman with her blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. "Not yet," she replied with a laugh.
The man holding the camera said, perhaps talking to whoever would watch this video diary, "We've just entered El Grande Rojo Cueva. Legend says that if you go in alone, you won't come out. Scared, Reg?"
She laughed. "No, Mark. I'm not scared. Are you?"
He gasped and asked, "Did you hear that?"
"Shut up, Mark. We're barely inside. Come on." The duo, Mark and Reg, continued walking and talking as they went through the Big Red Cave.
Scott, Elizabeth and their team watched without enthusiasm for another ten minutes. Then it started to get good.
"Guano means poop, right?" Reg asked.
"I think just for bats," Mark answered. "Why, you step in some?"
"I hope not, but I stepped in something."
The camera shifted and Mark shone his light on Reg's shoe. "Ew, sick," Mark said. "It looks kinda like bird shit."
"Um, Mark?" Reg asked, and her voice trembled. "I don't think it's bird poop."
The light and camera followed the goop on Reg's shoe to the ground around her. Both the camera and the light dropped, and as if it was done on purpose, the light shone on a gristly and mottled piece of flesh. They heard Mark retch in the background and Reg sobbed. After a minute or two of struggling with the camera, Reg turned it off.
Scott turned to the group before him. "Apparently our two man film crew found the body of what appeared to be a large bird. But upon closer inspection it turned out to be half man, half bird. The fact that it seems to follow the legend of the particular cave that no one that comes in alone leaves, along with the obviously mutated body is what will send us to Texas. So, pack up, wheels up in one hour. We'll finish the briefing en route."
Before they had a chance to leave and pack, a knock resounded on the conference room door. Elizabeth opened it up, and looked over at Scott, saying, "Dr. Hank Pym wants to talk to you."
"Bring him in, then," Scott replied.
Elizabeth let him pass, but as a way of retreat said, "I've some research to do. Have a safe trip."
"How can I help you, Dr. Pym?" Scott asked. He didn't know the scientist well, but respected that the man was obviously very smart and thus, deserved his friendliness.
Dr. Pym nodded a hello at the group, and also said, "Hi, Jean," to the only one he knew well enough to call by name, before saying, "Uh, I'm not sure if this is the proper way to address this, but I'm looking at registering for mission work, and you're the boss, I hear."
Scott knew that Pym was probably ten years older than him and everyone else in the room, and yet, he spoke without the 'I'm better and wiser than you' tone that many of the elder S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and Avengers used when they spoke to him or his younger teammates. Scott liked this guy immediately. "Can you be packed and ready to fly to Texas within the hour?" he asked him.
"I'm sure I could manage that," Pym answered.
"Good. We'll see in you the hangar in an hour, then. Janet can give you a list, if you need one, that will guide you with what to bring."
"Thank you for the opportunity, Agent Summers," Pym said and then he left.